The sun came out

Well, what do you know? Things really do look better in the morning. I'm tempted to delete yesterday's gripefest but--oh well--I'll leave it up for posterity. I'm back to the 'joy' thing again. Whew. No one wants to read Basic Gripeyness (or do they??).

So, a couple of housekeeping items:

Puppy names. We are still debating dog names {right now several of your submissions are definitely in the running} so you're welcome to continue to throw out ideas. I expect we'll finally have to decide when we bring the little guy home in the next week or two. The breeder's not anxious to have all the litter leave at one time so we have some flexibility. (This photo gives you a good idea what he will look like as grown pup.)

Letters site. I have forgotten to mention the last couple of weeks' worth of posts on the Letters to a Parent (LTAP?) site. Last week we had a great letter about embracing normal--the ups and downs of normal--and remembering to slow down, breathe, and get enough oxygen. This week I received a lovely heartfelt letter about the things we keep forgetting and re-remembering in the cycle of parenting. I continue to be buoyed and delighted by the letters that come in. Keep 'em coming!

Oh, the angsty angst. I've been reading some of my journals from my teen years. Let's just say it gives me so much compassion for my girls (and my Mom, in retrospect). I HAD FORGOTTEN THE ANGST! Oh, how could I forget the angst? About a betrayal and a boy:

"I feel like I can't live but know I will. My heart feels like it's shredded and all over my stomach and throat...how can I survive?...my mom seems to shrug it off lightly, she just doesn't understand that this is SO important to me and I am just crushed. Well, more later."

And then the next entry is a lighthearted and very detailed description of another boy I like. (I should say that my mom was actually a fantastic & listening mom. But this did give me a little reminder window into the emotional life of the teenage girl. And a nudge to be better at understanding it.)

Happy Monday! This made me laugh & reminds me of the story of Louisa May Alcott. The family had a pillow on the sofa that would indicate Louisa's mood so that family members knew whether to steer clear or not.

Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

Whenever G and I read about someone's poor judgment or honest mistake leading to catastrophic consequences, we comment "there's someone who had a bad day at work." Sometimes it's an understatement, like when a truck driver takes a turn too fast and rolls his load of combustible jet fuel all over the freeway, starting an apartment fire in a nearby neighborhood. Sometimes it's even a little humorous, like when the waiter in a hurry stacks the plates too high and loses it all. But we always feel empathic because, let's face it, we've all been there in one way or another.

So here's one for the bad day department that made my heart go out to the poor guy.

Take one nice dad, a 40-something professor of archaeology at the University of Michigan, out with his 7-year-old son to see a ball game in Detroit. (Maybe he's a little unaware of ads and pop culture and such.

Add one very deceptively labelled bottle of alcoholic lemonade. And one very unclear sign at the concession stand.

He gives the lemonade (remember: he thinks it's regular lemonade!) to his son. Who drinks it, on and off, for a couple of innings until an usher notices.

That is the beginning of a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day for this poor parent which proceeds to include the ER, child services taking his son away, two court hearings, being required to move out of his home, etc. etc. It is DAYS before he sees his son again.

Read the full article here and then go thank your lucky stars it wasn't you. Poor guy.

pictures via Detroit Free Press

Today.

Inspired by Tara Whitney's philosophy and photography. I've followed her for a couple of years and love her "just be" approach to life. When I visited yesterday, it was just what I needed to hear.

Cheered by the Jolly Porter. Oh, he makes me laugh! I will never look at a personalized marquee the same again. Wanna go in on the $25 fee to post one?

Relieved by the Take Your Kids to Work day that Greg's new employer is holding tomorrow. They'll do experiments and have fun (it's a tech/science-y sort of place). I'll have a little day off in the middle of Spring Break week.

Embarrassed by the fact that last week, on the day my blog hits almost tripled because of a nice mention by Design Mom (and she has also been very supportive of the Letters to a Parent project...thanks Gabrielle!), the post here was the one about how my kids may not regularly change their underclothes. Very not designy mom. You know the old adage about always wearing clean underwear just in case you're in an accident and have to go to the emergency room? {I never really understood that, by the way.} Maybe the same just-in-case principle applies to blogs and stranger-worthy posts? Just thinking out loud here... On the other hand, I have to just be me, come what may. Right?

Reddened by the overdose of sunshine from yesterday's spring break foray with the kids to Six Flags New England. Not that I'm complaining about a little perfect day of sun and breeze and blossoms combined with some greasy food and whirly rides...

Excited by the idea of throwing an outdoor dinner party in our backyard. In a month or two.

I think I'll need some cool strings of lights and maybe some gorgeous fabric to do a homemade photo booth.

photos via Lena Corwin's flickr

Frustrated by my own inaction on several home projects I want to get to. Really, I do! But the decisions involved (tile, paint colors, etc.) are holding me back. Get thee behind me, perfectionism! You are no friend of mine. (If you want to help, please tell me what are your favorite exterior paint color combinations for a farmhouse-style, village colonial type house?)

You want fame? You got big dreams?

Over the last couple of weeks we have seen two local school musical productions, one at the high school and one at the middle school. I love the joy and heart that both groups put into it. Sometimes campy, sometimes stunning, always entertaining (even if not always in the intended ways). There were some clear differences between them:

Kissing:
HS: kissing extra long, with side-to-side movement and obviously enjoyed
MS: no kissing, instead awkward hugging or they used a theatrical device where a prop conveniently moves in front of the couple just at the right moment, giving illusion of kissing but no actual witnessing of such.

Couples casting:
HS: can't help but wonder about the romances going on behind the scenes
MS: can't help but notice how much more quickly girls mature than boys. Real possibility that some boys are cast simply because of height.

Singing:
HS: pretty good grasp on harmonizing, near professional level in some
MS: boys still singing soprano or monotone mumbling way down in the low register. A little bit like a Chipmunks recording sometimes. But very sweet!

The high school did
Crazy for You.

Nicely done.
The female lead was amazing
(I think we might see her on
Broadway at some point.)
The male lead?
Eh. Clearly not headed for
Broadway but possibly in it for
the babes.
* * *
This last weekend was the middle school musical,
42nd Street.
For a bunch of 11-14 year olds,
it was great.

The local access channel even did
a behind-the-scenes look.
It's 30 minutes long;
only their parents (and me)
are going to watch the whole thing.
But here are the highlights:

1:25 cute rehearsal number with twins singing "Dames"
4:00 cute tap number
24:15-25:15 evidence that THERE IS A SPECIAL PLACE
IN HEAVEN FOR MIDDLE SCHOOL MUSIC TEACHERS

Pretend like I'm your somewhat bossy sister....

...because today I'm going to tell you what to do.

(By the way,
don't you love it
when kids are playing pretend
and one of them starts with a sentence like
"Pretend I'm the fairy...?"
and every sentence ends with an up inflection
like a question
and then the other kid adds to it
"...and I'm the mom...?"
and it just goes on and on like that,
each of them adding their link
on the pretend chain,
inviting more with their question marks,
until the chain's complete
and they move on? I do.)
Anyway, pretend I'm the sister?...
And I want to tell you what to do?...
And you read it and decide I'm not being that bossy?...
And I'm just telling you what to do because I like you?...
So we end up staying friends?
K?

1. Make this. You really, really have to make these cupcakes . Lemony goodness. Jam filling. The people at my house practically gave me a standing ovation. Really. And pretty easy!

2. Watch this. It's a British miniseries from a couple of years ago called The Amazing Mrs. Pitchard (we came across it on the shelf at our library but apparently it aired on PBS last fall). The premise is that a grocery store manager (Mrs. Pitchard) gets fed up with the politicians who are arguing and campaigning outside her store, gives them a piece of her mind, and is not only enlisted to run for office but is--I know, almost impossibly--made the Prime Minister.

3. Or watch this instead. Where do you come down on My So-Called Life? I was a bit worried that when I watched it this time around, the reality wouldn't live up to my memory. Nope. Still good. Although in the early 90s I identified with Clare Danes's character but now I sympathize more with the poor mom (played by Bess Armstrong) who's just trying to figure out what's going on in her daughter's life, for crying out loud. Why didn't I see that before? And watching all that angsty high school drama gives me a lot of compassion for Lauren.

4. Check this out. I love this new gardening blog, done by a former editor at Martha Stewart. She may just help my black thumbs acquire a little greener hue. And stave off spring fever for a few more weeks.

5. Don't wear these. Apparently jumpsuits are all the rage with the style makers in NYC. Hmm. Growing up, jumpsuits were what the over 70-year-old men around River Heights wore while they sat on their front porches or gardened or...did pretty much anything but churchgoing. Waistbands of pants, I assumed, were just too uncomfy, too much trouble. So with that vivid association, I'm going to have to sit this one out. Just say no. Or, if you decide to, follow the Times' advice and zip carefully. (I really was a bossy sister about fashion. I remember dictating to my little brother exactly what he could and couldn't wear to jr. high. And insisted he unbutton his top polo button. Sorry Matt.)

6. Have a great rest of the weekend. Thank you for indulging my bossiness, I feel much better.